


A Casual Invitation

by playwithdinos



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Fic Swap, F/M, Pre Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playwithdinos/pseuds/playwithdinos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed at the time to be a relatively good idea—a casual invitation to get to know this Mercenary company the Herald has hired a little better. Accompany them on a short scouting mission, figure out exactly what they are capable of and how best to use them to further the Inquisition’s goals.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Cullen takes the Bull's Chargers on a round of demon hunting to see how they'll fit into the Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Casual Invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teshayel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teshayel/gifts).



> My half of the [fic swap](http://daficswap.tumblr.com/) for the lovely [Teshayel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Teshayel/pseuds/Teshayel). She drew this [absolutely amazing piece of my Inquisitor](http://teshayel.tumblr.com/post/133440551590/my-contribution-for-the-dragon-age-fanficfanart) in exchange, you should check it out!

“About the Herald, Cullen” The Iron Bull says, mid swing of his massive greatsword, and that’s when the Commander realises he’s made a terrible mistake.

It seemed at the time to be a relatively good idea—a casual invitation to get to know this Mercenary company the Herald has hired a little better. Accompany them on a short scouting mission, figure out exactly what they are capable of and how best to use them to further the Inquisition’s goals.

Cullen suggested it himself— _volunteered_ his services, as it were. Cassandra voiced objections, but Cullen reminded her that he was the leader of the Inquisition’s forces, and if he was incapable of this small thing, then what good would he be to anyone?

Cullen quickly raises his shield to block the incoming claws of a Shade. It snarls and he pushes _forward_ , throwing the thing off its twisted center of gravity, before using his shield to deflect a second attempt low, sideways, making a gap in the creature’s defences wide enough to bring his sword to bear.

The demon screams as it dies, and Cullen pivots to look for the next demon.

“What about the Herald?” he shouts back, just before a Rage demon whirls on him.

“Just wondering—” and there Bull has to pause, to throw his shoulder and his whole weight against a Terror demon that’s just burst through the ground just in front of Dalish.

Cullen finds it remarkably peculiar that Dalish has just been standing there with a walking stick that looks suspiciously like a mage’s staff for the entire battle, but he has to block the Rage demon’s flames with his shield, deflecting them down to his feet, and he puts that thought aside for a moment.

“Just wondering how the Inquisition was keeping that _ass_ under wraps,” Bull finishes, cleaving the Terror’s neck right in two as if punctuating the word in question on purpose.

Cullen sputters so hard he’s forced to take three steps back to avoid being burned alive.

“Chief,” comes a shout from Krem halfway across the battlefield. The Tevinter warrior somehow manages to sound exasperated, even as he tries to wrench his sword free from the tangled limbs of a Shade. “Maybe not the time?”

“What?” The Iron Bull asks, sounding slightly offended. “Just wanted to know why, out of all the rumours I heard about Trevelyan before we met her, _none_ of them even mentioned her _perfect_ ass.”

Cullen grits his teeth and tries to drive the demon back, to regain the ground he’s lost—under his feet is the thawed remains of some spell from a Despair demon, and the muddy ground is slipping under his feet. A far cry from training in the Gallows, but under the midday sun at Haven the ground is similarly slick, and he finds his footing with ease.

He sees out of the corner of his eye a Wraith, pursued by Skinner with two knives and a wicked smirk. “Hardly perfect,” she quips, and Cullen realises that this is the first time he has heard her speak. “Lovely, yes. But perfect, no.”

Cullen has time to wonder how the hell they’re all so good at sassing one another while fighting. Then the demon presses forward with a snarl, and he is losing his ground once again, shield deflecting the creature’s fire to the slippery ground at his feet.

“Then define _perfect_ ,” Bull roars back. Cullen can’t see him any longer through the din of battle, but he hears Dalish yell a curse, sharp and bright.

“Watch it!” she yells. “Almost took my head clean off!”

“Contract for sixteen sovereigns,” Skinner shouts over the din. Cullen cannot spare a glance away from the Rage demon, its claws gripping his shield and trying to wrench it from his hand. “Six months ago, village on the road from Val Royeaux.”

There is a low—in both volume and height—laugh from somewhere to Cullen’s left, right before a grenade hits the demon in the face. It recoils, granting Cullen the time he needs to shove the shield forward and down, then backwards out of its grasp.

Rocky says, “I remember _her_. Elf lady, pretty little thing with a bow? Perfect _everything_.”

“Sylaise’s _vallaslin_ ,” Dalish says with a sigh that Cullen swears is wistful.

“What does that even _mean_?” Cullen snaps over his shoulder. He catches a glimpse of the elf standing with her hands behind her back, looking up at the sky and smiling as if in fond memory. “Aren’t you supposed to be providing cover fire?”

“Eyes like black opals,” Dalish muses, and Cullen curses in exasperation.

"Focus!” Krem shouts over the din, and Cullen brings his shield around to bear just in time for the Rage demon to unleash a wave of fire.

“Right,” Bull says, and for a blissful second Cullen thinks he’s agreeing with his lieutenant. “I remember her, needed help finding her pet falcon. Bitch to track down. Don’t remember seeing the money though.”

“Didn’t take any,” Dalish and Skinner say at the same time, with the same _exact_ fondness in their words, and the heat on Cullen’s cheeks is not from the flames searing across his shield.

“What?” Bull curses, and a glance in his direction gives Cullen the sight of the Qunari spy reach up and yank a Terror demon off of his horns, where it seems to have impaled itself when his head whipped around. “You said you spent it all on new equipment!”

“Might we focus on the task at hand?” Cullen is not _pleading_ , not really, but his voice certainly sounds like, it, doesn’t it?

There is another explosion, quick and fast, and it draws the demon’s attention to somewhere Cullen doesn’t look. It’s enough for Cullen to surge forward, to bash the creature’s chest with his shield, and to bring his arm up to drive the sword through it while it is stunned.

It recoils with a snarl, just out of Cullen’s reach. He comes short of overextending, retreats back behind the safety of his shield with an easy step and a pivot as the demon comes to bear again—

He hears the magic coming from behind him, from somewhere over his shoulder, and he dives to his left without even hesitating. He rolls and regains his footing, cursing as he looks back to where he was standing, a wall of ice crystallizing the rage demon and the ground. He’d thought the only Despair demon long dead, and curses himself for not seeing the other one on the battlefield earlier.

He takes his chance, however, and the Rage demon shatters with a well-placed strike from his sword. Then Cullen whirls to find Despair, to close the distance between them before he loses sight of it for good.

The long line of ice on the ground draws his eye back to Dalish, the ‘walking stick’ in her hand, the focusing crystal on the end alight. She hums thoughtfully to herself as she whirls the staff, winking easily at Cullen before slipping it into the hold on her back once more. “The Herald’s ass _is_ lovely,” she says, moving towards where Krem can be heard shouting some distance away. “Just not as lovely as _that_ one.”

Cullen curses under his breath. A Terror demon bursts from the ground at his left, and he whirls to face it.

 

When Cullen returns with the Chargers, the last light of the sun long disappeared into the mountain range behind Haven, the Herald herself if waiting for them outside the gates, hands behind her back and that mischievous smile that makes his heart beat a little faster on her lips.

“So?” Treveylan asks, her eyes glittering in the torchlight.

Cullen draws himself up to his full height in front of the Herald, trying to ignore the exhaustion in his bones. The fighting went on almost all day before they found the apostates responsible for the demons, and the _banter_ hasn’t yet ceased.

He opens his mouth to answer her, only for his right shoulder to be buffeted as someone passes him—in a manner that hasn’t been done to Cullen since he was a raw recruit.

“He’s not bad,” Skinner says, breezing past Cullen and the Herald without so much as a _by your leave_.

“Bit jumpy though,” comes Rocky’s comment as he passes on the other side, knocking Cullen’s elbow as he does.

Someone slaps his back with a _grunt_ , and then Grim passes him. Cullen looks to the Herald for a clue, but the perplexed amusement in her raised brows and bit lip tells him she doesn’t know what that means either.

Bull throws his arm right over Cullen’s shoulders with a bawdy laugh, and the Commander nearly falls over from bearing even a fraction of the giant Qunari’s weight.

“Not bad?” Bull shakes Cullen and he can swear his brain rattles around in his skull from the movement and the Qunari’s absurdly loud laughter. “I’d hire him myself in a heartbeat! You’re lucky you snatched him up first, Boss.”

Cullen’s absolute horror at the thought must carry to his expression, because Treveylan suddenly _grins_ , wicked and bright—and _there’s_ his heart beating against like horse shoes on cobblestones, Cullen thinks. From fear or something else he’s not quite sure.

“Well Cullen, you’ve passed Bull’s test with flying colours. Ready to be a Charger?”

“No,” he answers, more quickly and succinctly than he has ever answered anything in his life.

She laughs at that. Cullen is pretty sure his heart isn’t pounding from fear all of a sudden, because his stomach does this little _flip_ that isn’t entirely unpleasant at the sound of it.

“Herald,” Krem says, the only member of the Chargers who attempts some semblance of professionalism around Treveylan. “Would you prefer my report in person or...?”

“The Commander will be giving me his report tomorrow,” she manages between giggles. She links her arm through Krem’s and begins to drag the man—sputtering—back up the hill to the town. “ _We_ are going drinking.”

Cullen is about to protest, but he and Bull stand there and watch the Herald pass into the light of the torches, and Cullen finds his gaze inevitably drawn down—

“What did the _elf_ look like?” he wonders, realising too late he’s spoken aloud.

Bull barks a laugh and slaps Cullen on the back, _hard._

“Made you look!”


End file.
